I've got a brown thinning crinkly lunch bag full of undeveloped film. It's been in my antique trunk for years. I find other rolls of film and throw them in one of those clear storage containers I've been meaning to organize since I've moved to Philly. I've made headway but there's always that weird stuff you just can't get rid of or just have no idea where to put. I need to get the contents of my junk container down to the size of a junk drawer.
I'm scared to death of that undeveloped film. It's been a rough fourteen years. Who knows what can be on there! There are some things I choose not to remember and some people I rather not see the smiling faces of. I don't know if the film really goes back fourteen years but I do know it goes back at least nine. Selecting a roll out of the bag will be like russian roulette.
But here I am declaring that I will (and I just thought of this this very second) get one roll of film developed per paycheck AND post one picture from said roll onto this here blog AND write a factual corresponding story to the picture. It will be like therapy. Maybe this won't be so bad afterall.
I have to get the damn rolls developed anyway even if just out of fear of being like the moms who have undeveloped rolls twenty years old.
I can do this!